Kiss and Tell
by windscryer
Summary: Revenge isn't about cooking like the saying says. It's more like a game of ping pong. Peter apparently has a hidden talent for ping pong. Humor, not slash, but there is mention of offscreen boy!kissing.


Lu and I were playing the prompt game where we go back and forth coming up with a sentence or two that can be used to spark a story in any fandom—or none. This was from one of hers. See the end notes for the prompt.

Also, despite the content and topics discussed, there really is no subtext intended beyond that of strong friendship. Anything else you read into it is your own business and you are welcome to it as long as you don't share it with me in detail. I like this particular dynamic duo as just friends. All right? All right. :)

Disclaimer: Neal's collar would be a literal one around his neck instead of an anklet if I was in charge of the show. What? I like collars, okay? We all have our kinks. DON'T JUDGE ME FOR MINE. :P

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><p>They walked out of the restaurant, Neal holding the door for Peter and getting an acknowledgment of gratitude, then the two men turned right and started down the sidewalk in the direction of the "utilities" van parked down the block and around the corner.<p>

Silence reigned for a good minute or two before Neal glanced over his shoulder to confirm they weren't being followed. Then he looked at Peter and said, "You kissed me." There was a fair amount of incredularity in the statement that Peter suspected had been slowly building from the moment he'd pressed said kiss to the corner of the other man's mouth almost an hour ago.

There was, however, no denying it, so Peter didn't bother. "Yes. Yes, I did. I did do that." He glanced at Neal sideways, raising an eyebrow. "Were you expecting a different response? You _did_ tell them that we were 'a little closer than friends' and then put your arm around my shoulders in a way that no one could possibly interpret as anything but staking a claim."

He was a little surprised—but mostly gratified—to see Neal blush lightly.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't expect you to run with it like that. Does Elizabeth know that you're not as straight-laced as you look?" He paused when Peter shot him a _look_. "Pun not intended," he added. Peter wasn't sure he believed him.

"Whatever the orientation of my _lacings_," Peter said, making Neal quirk a grin, "Elizabeth is the one I chose and she knows that. And why does my running with it surprise you? Because only the great Neal Caffrey can con someone?"

Neal regarded him closely for a few seconds with that look that said he just didn't know what to make of Peter. Peter liked seeing that look. It made him feel better about agreeing, once upon a time, to become a full-time babysitter to a felon.

Neal then added a verbal form of the expression. "You just keep surprising me, Peter."

Peter reciprocated. "Good. I like keeping you on your toes. You don't have time to get bored and think about extra-curricular activities that would get you—and me—in trouble. Although you might have had too much free time recently if you thought of this."

Neal snorted a laugh. "This was completely off the cuff, I assure you. A necessary skill for a good con. And you deserved it anyway after last week's unending parade of cold mortgage fraud cases."

Peter smiled then said, "How did I surprise you this time?"

"Just that, well, as I mentioned, you seem to be very familiar—and comfortable—with PDAs that include another man. Is there something you want to tell me?" Neal added, his voice turning solicitously confidential—if insincerely so.

"There is: You're not the only one who can act, Neal."

Another laugh. "Agreed, certainly, though I am better at it than most people—including you. That's not what—"

Peter cut him off with a slicing hand movement. "I know what you were implying," he said. "Okay? But you're wrong. One of my roommates at Quantico—who was also a very good friend, and, _no_, not like that, Neal—was gay and he and his boyfriend weren't remotely shy about their relationship. My options were accept it and move on or get a new roommate and ruin a friendship." He shrugged. "It took less than a semester of spending time with them to kill off any hint of homophobia I might have once harbored."

Neal looked around at the crowds around them, scanning them for trouble in a habit that he couldn't quite kick. Not that he was trying. It was still helpful in his new line of work. "Is this one of those stories where you talk about yourself in the third person so as to pretend you're NOT talking about yourself?" he asked.

Peter sighed. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because it sounds like one of those stories—"

"Neal, I am not gay."

Neal held up a hand. "I'm just saying... 'If you _were_ gay, that'd be okay. I mean, 'cause, hey, I like you anyway.'" He shrugged.

Peter stopped and leveled a flat look at Neal. "Are you quoting a Broadway musical at me?"

Neal grinned. "Are you familiar with the lyrics from a lot of Broadway musicals? If so, you're not helping your case."

"I don't have a case to help," Peter said and kept walking. "I have a wife who likes Broadway musicals and a partner who apparently refuses to believe that I am happily married to her."

"You can't play for both sides?"

Peter gave him another flat stare.

"Oh come on, Peter. You know it won't bother me. Diana and her girlfriend have never bothered me."

"That's good. I'd hate to have to stay in a hostile work environment."

"It's just that you seemed so _comfortable_—"

Peter stopped once more and turned to face his partner. "Neal, what would you say is _the_ most important part of a con?"

Neal stopped as well and took the question with the seriousness Peter conveyed and thought about it.

Peter gave him only a second, then said, "Selling it to the mark. There _is _no con when they don't believe the lies you're feeding them. I don't know if you missed it back there, but this was one of those cons where _not_ selling it has a greater impact than whether you walk away a few hundred or thousand dollars richer or not. It could very well have ended with neither of us walking away at all. And since _you,_" he added, poking Neal in the chest, "decided to choose an inappropriate time to get revenge on me for making you do mortgage fraud cases—which, by the way, was a punishment for not keeping me in the loop on the con you were running on our suspect the week before—I didn't have a lot of choice.

"So, yeah, I played the hand I was dealt by the cheating dealer—that would be _you_, by the way—and I gave it my best shot. Apparently it worked and for that I am very grateful." He paused a beat. "Don't ever do it again or I'll tell Elizabeth that _you_ have a secret to share. She likes you, Neal, but you do _not_ want her to _really _consider you competition. It will not end well for you. Do we have an understanding?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah. Absolutely."

"Good. Now let's go. Jones owes Diana fifty dollars and I intend to take my cut of those winnings. Eighty/twenty seems fair, right?"

Neal stared after his friend and boss, then smiled and caught up. "More than fair. And then we'll split that eighty fifty/fifty, right?"

"Sure."

Neal grinned his triumph.

"But your twenty dollars is going to pay for Elizabeth's dinner tonight as an apology for making her husband even appear to be unfaithful to her."

The grin died a swift, but painful death. "Aw, come on, Peter."

"No. I am going to have to explain what happened to her so she doesn't hear about it at the Christmas party and for that you can pay for the meal that needs to go with said explanation." He raised his eyebrows. "Would you prefer to explain it to her yourself?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks. Enjoy your meal."

Peter smiled and dipped his head in a nod. "We will."

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><p>First time... Collarer? Collarite? What are we called in this fandom anyway? Whatever our nicky, this is my first story in this universe. Let me know how I did, if you would! :)<p>

Cheers,

Maja

Prompt: 

"You kissed me."

"Yes. Yes, I did. I did do that."


End file.
